Dear Los Angeles,
It was a love-hate relationship from the start. One year into LA life, 12 months into FIDM Fashion Design studies, on our New Year’s Eve anniversary I asked myself “Why?”, instead of dancing the night away with all of our “friends”. Time progressed, a little home by the beach called my name; I felt the universe had spoken to me and called me home. In the bubble of Venice Beach I found such youthful harmony. The beach led to the crisp mountains, to the gypsy canyons, out to the far sea, and closeness to an expansive sky of shining stars. California you inspired a dream to come to life… bursting like the water balloon that just couldn’t bear to hold more.
Inspirations burst to the fruition of dreams, and then dreams eventually settle into adult-world reality. And still… I had yet to completely know your true self, until I came East. East Los in all it’s flavor rejuvenated that dream through concrete, dirt, and the uncontrollable, fast growing gardens of Southern California. This time you set me down first; you grounded me with your Earth before allowing me to leap into action. You held my hand, made sure I stood proud, listened, and yield me to move with my eyes wide open. It worked!
We may struggle with your cost of living, the commutes through town are our least favorite; but Dear Los Angeles you’ll leave a touch of magic on us as we go. It’s always refreshing to leave you, yet once we’re without you it’s easy to feel like a foreigner in a foreign land. You’ll call our names to return, we’ll feel your pull. But as for now, we’re off… like explorers venturing in, to battle the Wild West. Sandy, deep desert horizons are calling our name. We’re building our story to tell, going deep to refine it all…
But yes, we’ll never forget it was you Los Angeles, with you it all began.
Right babe… whatchu thinking?
You speak truths, m’lady. This is the Place. American-Eden and we cast Ourselves about!
Don’t cry for Me Angelinos! The truth is I scarcely met You. I’ll be honest: you have your hooks in me… I came to you dewy and slow, oversteeped in the salty musk of southeast Georgia and greased with a seven year layer of Southern dolce far niente. I found a wee, breezy Melrose bungalow right in yr grimy center and promptly allowed myself to love you. And hellfire I love you; ardent warrior-love! My stoked body was the first to wake; I rode yr endless Streets from day 1; I put 3500 miles on these 36 year old legs in the 587 days we shared.
Yr fickle, Los Angeles. Yr fickle and if I don’t keep my dukes up you make more work for me: I became a self-styled Yes-Man and set to building community. It’s so easy! Quick projects with groups of an easy synergy. And then it’s so hard; I went native, flaked and left unfinished. Manifesting destinies and sprawling all over your gloss, grit, and immensity. Right now! I imagine all my Very Best Favorites right-now-this-second and where are you? So many little rooms stuffed with unsung skills, busy at work, some smokeless bars surely, those folk tucked in, those untucking and so many so uncommonly isolated. Oof, Los Angeles, every production is so BIG!
I found friends! My Olympia, the tuxedosiamese furry ladycat that joined… We’re more at home in inbetween places. & Quick after, this East Los nest and here we’ve made it an entourage… And we learned to cultivate, frothing soil right where Earth and Sky meet into miracles of dinner; fig fruit, endless mint and Meyer lemon. Aromatic herbs embellishing our palates. We cultivate further; we’re dreaming inpairs and found this: Impossibly, the desert eastward is more West. So further West we go into the feverdream. Deep desert horizons ARE calling our name. Me and this lady, we drift. Say, My Babes… I’m in.
Love. Mallory and Joshua